


Metafictional

by Bardic_Feline



Category: Left 4 Dead, Respect A Woman
Genre: F/F, Genderbends, Metafiction, Zarla Characters, multicrossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 18:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bardic_Feline/pseuds/Bardic_Feline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunter invites Smoker to a rather...ODD bar, and is being unusually cagey about it. What can this possibly lead to, and will any good come from it? Only time will tell...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At the Sign of the "Who Gives a Shit"

Hunter had been acting oddly all day, even by her standards. She was speaking a little quicker, fidgeting more than usual, tapping her fingers against random surfaces, and jiggling her legs whenever she sat down. She ate her dinner (stuffed pork chops with sautéed greens…Smoker was feeling experimental that night) with her usual speed, but none of her usual enjoyment. If it had been anybody other than Hunter, Smoker would have assumed that the smaller woman was nervous about something.

Given that it was Hunter, though, she decided that the obnoxious little stray had been mainlining energy drinks again, and still had the caffeine jitters.

"That was good. Are you done yet? Can we go?" said the bouncy little Asian, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her ever-present kitty hoodie.

Smoker grimaced and passed her a paper napkin. "The way you bolted it, it's a wonder you could tell what it was, much less how."  
"Of course I know what it was, you still have some on your plate. God, you eat slow." She knotted and unknotted her napkin as she spoke.

"So I prefer to savor my meals, unlike some people."

"Yeah, yeah, you're all civilized and stuff. Will you please wrap it up?"

"I don't know what your rush is. It's still early, and it's not like this place is going to grow legs and walk away."

"…you'd be surprised." Muttered Hunter, slumping back in her chair, frustration etched into her features. She absentmindedly wiped her still messy fingers on her crumpled napkin. Smoker mentally filed that away as weirdness exhibit number 4; normally Hunter licked her fingers clean.

"So, this is some kind of bar, right?"

"Sortof, yeah…I mean, it has a bar, in the part of it I want to take you tonight. You'll see."

"Hmmph." Smoker didn't know how she'd let herself be talked into this. She hated bars, on general principle that they were almost invariably too crowded, too loud, too expensive, and too smelling of other people's smoke. (And in the worst cases, too smelling of other people's used alcohol.) "This place got a name?"

"Yeah, but I don't know what it's going to be tonight. It changes depending on the situation."

"…what."

...............................................................................

Smoker squinted and blinked a few times. The letters on the sign refused to change. She read it aloud, not quite believing the words that were coming out of her mouth.

"'Who Gives a Shit what we call ourselves. If you can find us, you were obviously meant to be here!'? What in tarnation…?"

Hunter laughed, sounding a little higher pitched than normal, and slung her arm around her tall friends shoulders. "Awwww, look at that! They knew you were coming, and named the place especially for you!"

"…I refuse to dignify that with a comment." She sighed deeply, and reached for a fresh cigarette. As she lit it (her lighter taking an unusually long time to flare up, she noticed, and made a note to check the fuel level), she took looked over the exterior of the place. It did little to inspire confidence; the oddly worn looking sign aside, it was basically just a shabby brick wall with a single metal door. A wire enforced window was in the door, but it was too smudged to see through properly. The only other decorations were a shabby movie poster, and a smaller more official looking sign with plain black lettering. Only instead of just saying "no loitering" or "no smoking", it had a list of…well, more oddness.

"No issues, No linearity, No canon, No Heroics, No Villainy, No Sues, No Stus, No Shirts, No Shoes, No Problem."

 

Under that, someone had scrawled in a much untidier hand "But for the love of God, wear pants. We're talking to you, Horse-boy."  
"Do we really have to go in?" said Smoker.

"What do you think?" said Hunter with a wicked grin.

"I'm thinking that you are going to owe me for this."

"Oh, well…chances are you won't completely remember this once we get back into context." Said Hunter, pulling her through the door before she had a chance to question the odd remark. "I mean, I'm only just beginning to really remember the details of my last visit, now that we're here."

"What in the hell are you…" Smoker paused, freezing up. A sudden, impossible realization had hit her, but somehow she knew…on some level, she just knew…that it was completely true, and that she had somehow always known it. "…we're…we're not real are we? The two of us?"

Hunter was nodding, smiling a smile that could only be described as nervous now. "Nope Haha! We're characters from a story. Well, if you want to be all technical about it, we're fan-characters from a video game. We're out of the context of our own story here…this place exists between realities, isn't that cool, we can visit all sorts of cool places from here… so we're allowed to notice that now. But only when we're here. Kinda blew my mind when I first realized it, too."

"Video game…computer game. About zombies. And our names are just placeholders until the author…we have a gorram author?...comes up with real names for us…we're just named for the type of zombies we turn into…"

Hunter was rubbing the back of her head now, and looking a little bit distressed. "Yep. Genderswap characters of zombies, wild isn't it? I mean, it sounds like something Jockey would come up with…oh wait, have we met her yet in this part of the timeline? I know we meet her at some point, though…I think. You'll probably remember her soon enough. Tiny braided blonde, always talks about dead people like they are alive in a closet somewhere? That ring any bells with you?"

"I turn into a zombie because…because of yo…"

"Oh, look, they have a DDR machine now! I'm just going to check it out, why don't you go get yourself a drink you look like you need a drink ok good see you in a few." The smaller woman ran off, leaving the tall brunette staggering with her newly discovered existential crisis.

…………………………………………..

If Smoker had been in any condition to think clearly, she might have been very angry right then. At the moment, though, all she wanted was for her head to stop whirling. As she walked unsteadily to the bar, it slowly dawned on her that: 1) This place was much bigger on the inside than the outside, much bigger than her mind was letting her grasp at the moment, 2) the interior was far cleaner and more modern looking not just in comparison to the exterior, but in comparison to any bar she'd walked into, ever and 3) the patrons all looked like they had wandered in out of various novels, comic books, games, what have you…because, well, they most likely had.

"I'm losing my mind." She muttered, as an anthropomorphic fox wit long blue hair and an over sized light purple t-shirt wandered past, arm in arm with a batty looking grey haired women in a vaguely nun-like outfit. "Or this is a prank. Yeah. Just gotta keep telling myself that."

She scanned up and down the line of the long polished bar. There was only one empty seat left, at the very end. Sitting next to it was a person, chair swiveled to face the room, holding a very large book somehow balanced on her/his lap; the only thing she could see over the top of the tome was a mop of curly reddish hair. 'Ok…hardly the weirdest thing in here.'

She stood and glared at the empty seat for several seconds before finally stepping forward. "'Scuse me, but JEEZUM CROW!" His face, his FREAKING FACE.

She felt her cheeks grow hot, and forced herself to look up into his eyes instead. He'd transferred the hand-roll to his left hand while she was staring, and was now blowing out smoke in a long stream, a questioning look in his eyes. "Yes?"

"You…" you have a huge, no I can't say that, that's rude "You're a boy!" smooth, Smoker. She thought, doing a mental face-palm.

The red head, for his part, looked down at himself, taking another drag on hi cig as he did so. "I was when I checked this morning, and that seems to still be the case now. Well spotted!"

"You just…I could quite tell when you had the book up. All I could see was the lower parts of your legs and your hair." She said, lamely, he face burning.

"Mmm…I've been told I have rather feminine hair, I'll grant you." He responded, giving it a tug. "Was that what you wanted to ask me?" He said it in such a matter of fact manner that she half wondered if that really was a question he got frequently.

"Yes, I mean NO, I…just wanted to know if anyone is sitting in the chair next to you."

He glanced over at the other bar stool. "At the moment? No."

Something about the way he said that made her pause. "…so, WAS there someone sitting there?"

"That there was." He snubbed the last of his cig out, and pulled out a fresh paper scrap.

"Someone who is going to come back here?"

A handful of some kind of shredded tobacco…she assumed it was tobacco, it was a little hard to be certain… was fished from a small satchel, and placed in the paper scrap. "There is a good chance that he will return, yes. Don't know when." The fresh cigarette was swiftly rolled.

"A 'he' who will be upset if someone take his place?"

Cigarette went between lips. "Presumably that someone would be you?" He glanced her up and down, and raised one cupped hand up to the end of his cig. When he lowered it, it was glowing. She couldn't help but stare. She didn't think she'd seen him pull out a lighter…she was so busy staring that she actually missed the next thing he said, and had to ask him to repeat it.

"I said," he snapped, with a faint look of annoyance on his face, "I can say with absolute certainty that he would be more upset if you didn't sit there." *

It was an odd statement, but at this point her head was pounding so badly that decided that was as close to a clear go ahead as she was going to get from this strange person. Muttering a quiet thanks, she pulled herself up onto the stool with a small sigh of relief. The odd little red-head had gone back to reading, to her more private relief. With the book blocking his face, it was easier to pretend that she hadn't seen the giant burn scar.

 _*Not actually what he said the first time.  
For those of you who are actually curious, what he really said was "Oh, he would be…maybe a little too happy if you did sit there. So, if you fancy being hit on by an oversexed stallion man, than help yourself; if not, you'd probably find one of the tables over there a touch more comfortable. Fair warning."_

……………………………………………………..

Hunter moved through the crowd skillfully, inwardly cringing at how cowardly she was being. She hadn't wanted to leave Smoker by herself like that, she really hadn't, but the look on her face just then…well, it hadn't inspired a good deal of confidence. I hope she still wants anything to do with me after this. She thought morosely.

It was one of the more infuriating things about their (hopefully, not former) friendship with the older woman. Hunter could get in any number of fights with any of her other friends, and those would always just end with one or both parties laughing it off or hitting each other…or a combination of the two…and afterwards IT WOULD ALL BE OVER. But with Smoker…it was always all about feelings and shit. And it was always so damn complicated. And this one was exceptionally tricky. It wasn't as if Hallmark made a "Sorry for accidentally turning you into a boil covered tongue zombie" card. How did you even begin to approach that topic?

Hunter absentmindedly watched the dancing pair on the machine; a nearly identical pair of men, except one was brunette, and the other was blonde. Oh, and one was wearing combat fatigue while the other was shirtless. The song came to an end, and the pair immediately fell to arguing about the outcome. Apparently the brunette's score was just a little bit higher…

"You ever play that game?" Came a oddly accented, drawling voice behind her.

"Yeah. I play it with my buddies back home. Not nearly as much fun as parkouring, of course, but holy jesus Christ you are huge."

The giant man laughed loudly, pushing his forelock back from his head as he did, and flicking his horse-like ear. "Yeah, I get that a lot. Sorry if I inadvertently loom."

"Nah, don't sweat it. You can't help your height."

"Either way…"he shrugged. "Anyway, you were just telling me that you were experienced with this game…would you say that you were any good?"

She drew herself up to her full height. "I'd say I was pretty frigging awesome, yeah." As far as Hunter was concerned, modesty was something that happened to other people. "Why, you looking for a challenge?"

"Not me, no. But you see that cat-boy over there?" She looked where the giant horse-looking guy was pointing and narrowed her eyes. "He's been talking shit all night about how nobody can beat him, and thus far, no one has been able to rise to the challenge. So I told him that I could pull any random person out of this crowd, and they could make him eat his words."

"And then you found me?"

"You look like a likely one, yeah."

"Heh, weirdo…well, assuming I take on the challenge, what's in it for me?"

"Well, I've got money riding on this outcome. So, assuming you win…25% of the takings?"

"25% of what?"

He told her. She whistled. "Not bad. And if I lose?"

"Then nothing. It's my bet, so it's my penalty."

"Hmmm…" She sized him up. It was an incredibly odd request to ask a stranger to be sure, but something about him felt…honest. Besides, if she won, and he went through with his end of the bargain…well, it probably wouldn't hurt her chances with Smoker if she could buy her an apology gift.

"Ok, then…so how do I go about issuing challenges around here?"

He laughed loudly. "Sign up sheet's over there. The name of the guy you are challenging is Kaz. Best of luck."

She smiled as she went over to the board of names. Weird ass challenges or not, Hunter always felt better after a good workout. Her problems never seemed as severe then.

Maybe by the time she was finished kicking the cat-boy's ass, she would have figured out what exactly she wanted to say to Smoker.

……………………………………………………

 

Smoker stared at the tall, blended drink that one of the bartenders, a pretty little blonde with a curiously stony expression, had slammed down in front of her. She hadn't ordered it.

"I'm sorry, miss, I…"

"It's on the house. Drink it, you'll thank me."

"Ok…but…what IS it?"

"It's a nice tall glass of 'shut up and drink it, it's good for you.' It'll help with the transition pains."

Smoker frowned at the pushy blonde. "I'm sorry. I'm really not in the habit of drinking things when I don't know what's in them."

"Ma'am, I assure you, if I was going to slip you something strange, I would be a good deal more discreet about it than this."

Somehow, Smoker was not reassured. She pushed the offered drink away. "No thank you."

The bartender pushed it back. "You'll thank me. Or at least be quietly grateful." There was a slight edge to the last statement.

Smoker was beginning to feel incredibly irritated. She was confused about her place in the universe, trying to cope with some unpleasant revelations, her head hurts, and her lighter wasn't lighting properly. She really did not need this shit! "I said no thank you. Please take the hint."

The bartender looked like she was about to start arguing with her when a second bartender…a skinny brunette guy with numerous piercings and a small smile…walked up. "There a problem here?" His voice was soft, but she oddly enough, she had no trouble hearing him.

"Only that this one…" Smoker snapped, nodding towards the blonde, who only looked back impassively, "is trying to foist mystery smoothies off on unwilling people. Beyond that, I'm peachy." It came out as more of a growl than she'd intended it too, but she was somewhat beyond caring.

"Oh dear. This is your first time here, isn't it?" Said the brunette, a sympathetic look in his grey eyes. "I'm sorry…first time is almost always rough. I promise you it gets better."

"This one would suck considerably less if she just drank the smoothie." Said the blonde, face still expressionless. "You know full well I wouldn't try to poison her."

"Yet." Muttered Smoker.

The brunette just smiled. "How about if we made a fresh one in front of you? That way you can see exactly what goes into it. Would that help?"

"Maybe…"

"Alison, would that work for you?"

The blonde sighed. "Fine. I just hate wasting the other one…"

The red head, not looking up from his book, piped up. "I'll take it." Smoker jumped; as quiet as her bar-mate was, she'd half forgotten he was there.

"Problem solved!" said the brunette, shoving the untouched drink over towards the smaller man. "I'll leave you two to it. By the way, my name is Lance. If you need anything…ANYTHING at all…just give a yell." He winked at her.

"What did I tell you about flirting with the patrons?" deadpanned Alison.

"That I would be punished severely for it?" He didn't look at all disturbed by the prospect. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"We'll discuss this later."

"I look forward to it!" He laughed, and walked off.

"So where were we?" said Alison to Smoker, as if nothing had happened.

"Ummm…the drink?"

"Ah, yes…pay attention, I'm only going to do this once."


	2. "We'll Man the Freaking Desk When We're Good and Ready"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter kills some time by issuing a pointless (but fun) challenge, while Smoker copes with her newly realized status as a fictional character. In the process, both bump into several OCs from various locations.

What the giant horse looking guy had failed to mention was that there was going to be a considerable wait before Hunter actually got to compete against the cat boy; there was already a fairly long list of names on the board of people who had not gone yet, Hunter hadn’t quite managed to get her name on the list yet because…well...

"What do you mean, there is no disco in the database? I was told that every song that ever existed and ever will exist should be in this thing!” snapped the girl with the blue afro. “AND NO MUSIC DATABASE IS COMPLETE WITHOUT THE GREATEST STYLE OF MUSIC EVER, YOU FIEND!”

The guy at the sign-up counter, a surly looking brunette with short wavy hair, just glared back. “Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t clear. Yes, Disco is in our database, but I refuse to play it for you or anyone else BECAUSE IT IS FUCKING TERRIBLE. NOW CHOOSE SOMETHING ELSE OR GET THE FUCK OUT OF LINE.”

 

“Oh my god, this place is even worse than that shape-land dimension!” wailed the next girl in line, a darkly complexioned young woman with short, shaggy dark hair. “Nothing makes any sense at all! Why would anyone put that horrible little sociopath in charge of the sign up board anyway? Why the heck did that alien in the pot plant thing try to go early, he didn’t have any legs? What the heck was up with those jester twins? AND WHY ARE WE HERE AT ALL? It’s like we were pulled here entirely for the purpose of a terrible fanfiction cameo that maybe 10 people will get, god!”

“Oh my god, shut up shut up shut up shut up.” Muttered the oddly 2 dimensional , living triangle.* “Are you never not asking stupid questions and pointing out the FREAKING OBVIOUS?”

“And you! Why the heck are you signing up for this thing, you don’t have any more legs than the pot plant alien thing, what were you planning on doing, hopping on the buttons one at a time like a moron? “

Hunter, who was next in line after the girl and the triangle sighed and bounced on her heels impatiently.

“Well, get over it, Leisure Suit Laura, Disco is Dead, and contrary to popular belief, there is nothing in the multiverse Deader than Disco, PERIOD.”

“LIES UPON LIES! DISCO LIVES ON AND EVER ON! YOU CANNOT DESTROY IT!”

“One, you are crazy, Two, legs are just about the most worthless of appendages and frankly, you don’t seem to be able to do anything even with them, and Three, you are CRAZY! “

“Oh, for….how am I the crazy one here, huh? Really? You keep saying that, but you never even try to explain any of it to me! Seriously, what the heck? And why are we still traveling together, we completely hate each other, and there are plenty of other things you could be doing in here besides SIGNING UP TO PLAY A GAME THAT YOU DON’T HAVE THE NECESSARY ANATOMY TO PLAY IN THE FIRST PLACE.”

“Whatever you say, loopy-loo.”

“GARARAGAGAGAGGAGAGHHH!”

“That is it, I challenge you, foul keeper of lists, I challenge you to a DANCE OFF…TO THE DEATH!”

“Oh, you wanna play it that way? You wanna play it that way, Miss Cotton Candy Puff? We’ll play it that way! “ yelled the surly looking guy, writing his name (which was apparently McCaulley) up on the board with angry slashes of his chalk, next to the word Dico Crazy Chick. He then started to storm off, still yelling at the afro girl.

“Hey, wait, we’re still waiting!” yelled the girl, grabbing at the sign up guy as he walked past.

“I care? Leggo of me, you and triangle thing over there have been getting on my nerves for the last five minutes. You two wanna have your little marital squabble or whatever, take it outside.”

Completely ignoring the angry shouts from both girl and triangle, the guy turned to Hunter. Before she could register her complaint that she hadn’t gotten a chance to sign up either, he said “And you must be the cat hooded girl who’s challenging the catboy? Tora, the freaky giant horse guy, mentioned you were coming. You really as good as you say you are?”

She bristled. “Can it. We both know talks cheap. How’sabout you just let me show you how good I am, and sign me the hell up?”

“Certainly confident enough. And smart enough to not give me a straight yes, that would have landed you straight into the stupid “Pride cometh before the fall” Aesop range.” He smiled for the first time; it was amazing how much the simple change in expression improved his features. “Alright then, you have the slot after me and Blue Hair here. What do you go by?”

The tiny Asian was taken off guard by the turn around in the guys attitude. “Umm…Hunter. I’m called Hunter.”

“Not bad. Not terribly creative, but I can’t think of a person named Hunter who I completely dislike. “ He said, writing it down. “You can call me Mike, by the way. If you have any questions about the rules, don’t bug me with them. Ask the red-headed waitress instead. Her name’s Holly. Now piss off, Disco Dani over there and I still have unfinished business.” He punctuated the last sentence by slamming a sign down on the desk which read:

Sign ups for DDR closed for the foreseeable future.  
We’ll man the freaking desk when we’re good and ready to.  
Hunter watched him run off, yelling at afro girl (“And furthermore, your outfit SUCKS.”), followed closely by the girl and the triangle (who, united in anger, were actually yelling at someone besides each other.) She glanced back at the deserted sign-up desk, and wondered if maybe the new sign had been written by the same person who made the one outside the door.

 

*Which was still not the weirdest thing Hunter had seen there, so she didn’t waste too much time starting.  
…………………………………..

Smoker watched carefully as Allison the pushy bartender put together the drink in front of her. She didn’t recognize a fair number of the fruits and herbs she was using, even after asking about the names and properties, but it all looked innocuous enough. The smoke from the red-headed-definitely-still-a-boy’s weird little hand-roll was starting to bug her, though, and was making it hard to focus completely on the drink making process.

That’s not to say it was unpleasant. It had a spicy, almost sweet scent, and didn’t smell a thing like any variety of tabacco she knew. * At the same time, it didn’t smell like any of the other things she would have immediately recognized. It wasn’t a clove cigarette that any of the little hipsters she new favored. It was reminiscent of some of the leaves she smelled in the one of two hookah parties that Juan managed to drag her to, but not nearly as sweet. ** It didn’t have the distinctive acrid smell of weed, so she ruled that out. But what DID it remind her of?

Her train of thought was cut off abruptly when Alison slapped the fresh drink in front of her with a thunk. “Any further question? No? Now drink.”

She would have argued further just for the heck of it, but something in the petite blonde’s tone stopped her. She took a careful sip instead.

As it turned out, it wasn’t bad. A little odd, with a flavor that she couldn’t quite describe afterwards, but still vaguely pleasant. Almost instantly, her headache (which had actually gotten worse the longer she’d been sitting there) began to fade, the tension in her shoulders and arms easing. Damn her, the bartender was right; it WAS helping.

“Thanks, Miss.” She muttered reluctantly.

“That’s Mrs., and you are welcome.”

Smoker blinked, and glanced at the blondes left hand. Odd, she didn’t see a ring. Deciding that she didn’t care to pursue the subject, Smoker looked up, and shrugged. “Whatever you say. So, can anyone explain to me what this place is?”

“Drink your drink. Well, let’s see…I don’t know if I’m the best person to explain things. We normally leave that sort of thing to Lance…”

“Well he’s not here, and you are, and he smiles too much anyway.” Alison made a snorting noise that on anyone else would have sounded like a laugh. “So give me your best shot. We’ll start with the basics…apparently this is a place where all sorts of made up people can meet up for some reason?”

Alison shook her head. “Never thought I would ever hear someone complain about Lance’s smile…sorry, no, you are technically right. This is part of a very LARGE place where anything…and anyone…cooked up by the human brain can go, and it is also a place where you can visit…by different means and degrees…any PLACE imagined, ever. And mind you, when I say ‘anything, anyone, anyplace’, I mean past, present, and future, so that includes those from creations that haven’t been finished or even fully conceived yet. Mind you, those are considerably harder to access…it’s much easier to get to places that have made a strong, lasting impression on a lot of minds.”

Smoker blinked and took a longer swig. “I’m not sure I completely understood all of that.”

“Sorry…I’ll try again. Ok, so have you ever heard the idea of separate realities, sometimes called universes or worlds? It comes up a lot in speculative fiction…”

“I have, actually.” Smoker read a fair amount of Sci Fi and Fantasy; it was one of her many guilty pleasures behind Musical Theatre, and the occasional midnight Rave. (The third thing being the one that she’d thus far managed to keep secret from Hunter.)

“Ok, so think of this bar right here as a VERY small part of a VERY large…Hub, I guess, one that connects every possible world. You can think of it as the World Between Worlds.”

“What, like in the Magician’s Nephew?”

The blonde paused to give another rare smile. “You’ve read the Narnia books, then?”

“Yeah…liked them a lot when I was a kid, until I figured out that Aslan was basically lion Jesus, then I kinda lost interest. Still like Magician’s Nephew, though…it had some good ideas, even if it didn’t use them very well. I used to always wish they’d gone to more than one world…”

“I had the same problem with it.” Said the blonde, nodding sympathetically. “It felt like such a waste of a neat plot element, and then it never was used again. But, yes…to get back to the main point, it is very much like that, only without the rings or the pools of water. Also, as you might have noticed, this place far more active than the in-between place Mister Lewis imagined. More Infinitely large airport than living woods/crawl space. Also, you can visit the Narnia verse from here; you can even go to that World Between Worlds and visit places that the text left out.”

Smoker blinked. She still was a little baffled, but if the parts that she understood were correct…”So, wait. Say, I wanted to check out…oh, Middle Earth?”

“Very popular tourist destination. They do guided walk-throughs all the time, among other things…worth visiting at least once if you are a fan.”

Smoker felt her heart begin to speed up. “And if I’m a fan of, oh, say…West Side Story?”

“You could go visit that world in person, if you choose, or you could stick around here and watch the play. We get a lot of actors…or characters who regard themselves to be actors of sort when outside of their world’s context…that come through here, and they are always putting on shows. If you look hard enough, you could probably find any play you wanted being performed somewhere. Let’s see…I have an informational pamphlet for newbies here somewhere. It would explain a lot of the details better than I can.”

Smoker was feeling genuinely excited at this point. If what she was hearing was correct…well, the imagination itself was the limit to the sort of things she could see and do here. And with Hunter by her side, well…

Her thoughts screeched to a halt there. Oh, dammit. I haven’t decided what I want to do about Hunter yet… She sagged visibly, and felt her headache starting to come back in full force. The red-headed-we-assure-you-he-is-male actually looked up from his book, and frowned at her.

“You ok there, Lovely?” When she didn’t answer, he leaned back, and yelled over the counter “Sa, Mrs. Alison…I think she’s gonna need another of those potions of yours.”

“What…?” Alison looked back from where she was rummaging, and saw Smoker’s state, and swore. “LANCE, GET OVER HERE, THIS IS ONE OF YOURS.”

*In spite of years of smoking, Smoker still had a pretty good nose for different varieties of tobacco. She’d gone through a major tabacco snob phase in college, and for a while had been a regular at one of the local pipe shops, and had learned quite a bit about the different types of leaf and cuts that way. Nowadays, though, she stuck to Zomboros…not actually the cheapest option, but a hell of a lot simpler than dealing with loose leaf.  
**Juan had always insisted that if she had to breathe in that crap, that Hookah smoke was not nearly as bad for her, and anyway, it got her out of the house and around other people for a change, right? She argued that at least with a cigarette, she wasn’t smoking it after 5 strangers had put their damn mouths all over it. And then she managed to irritate everyone there by using a disinfectant wipe every time the pipe was passed to her. Needless to say, they ended up not going to many of those for a REASON.  
………………………………………….

Hunter tried her best to quash down a fresh feeling of guilty over having left Smoker on her own; she remembered all too vividly how she’d taken her first visit to this place, and knew her friend was more than likely having a bad time of it. But she still couldn’t bring herself to face her, and really didn’t want to think about it.

Trying her hardest to find something else to focus on, she actually ended up hunting down Holly the waitress, who, as promised, had a mass of curly red hair barely contained by a hair band. She was a woman of a decent height, although nowhere near Smoker’s gaah, bad brain, not thinking about that right now! , and very athletically built. She looked out of place in her waitressing uniform, acutally…this was a woman who clearly would have been more at home in a coach’s outfit or something. Hunter would not have been surprised if she wore one of those whistles on a chain.

“Hi, that guy Mike said I should maybe talk to you…?”

“Oh, right…cat hood girl? Hunter, I think it was? Yeah, he messaged me a few minutes ago about you. Just a sec…Chris can you Renee’ and Liza handle the tables for moment without me for a minute?” The last part she said into a headset mouthpiece. She waited a minute, and apparently getting a positive response, nodded, and signaled Hunter to sit down in a nearby chair.

“Ok, so I understand you are going to be dancing against Katsane?”

“Wha…?”

“That’s Kaz’s full name. We call him Kat or Kaz for short; according to his team, both are valid pronunciations.”

“Oh wow, hah…that’s not a bit confusing at all.”

“Tell me about it. But we play along with it; their home world naming patterns, their rules and all that. At any rate, Kaz isn’t a bad kid, really. He just…well, he can be really obnoxious about his physical talents at times is all. And the problem with that is that he actually has the talent to back it up. We don’t actually want him to be hurt or humiliated or anything, though, just…”

“Taken down a few pegs?”

“Exactly.” The waitress smiled.

 

“And that’s where I come in?”

“You got it!”  
“Ok, so…what exactly am I up against?” Hunter wasn’t stupid…she’d agreed to go against the guy without knowing exactly how good he was, or even what his preferred style was, but that’s just because she craved a proper challenge. In her mind, this wasn’t far off from free running blind through a strange course (a feat she had done on more than one occasion. But even in those situations, she liked to get a rough idea beforehand of what sort of terrain to expect, and how long the course actually was. The same basic rules applied to going up against an unknown opponent.

“Ok…so here’s the way it’s going to go down. When it’s your turn to go, it’s going to be set to hard mode, and neither of you gets to pick the song. We’ll select one for you at random, the idea being that neither of you gets the advantage by picking anything you are overly familiar with. You dance the whole number, and whoever has the highest total at the end wins. Can you live with that?”

“Sounds fun to me.”

“Awesome! Ok, on to Kaz himself. First off, and I cannot stress this enough, but DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE HIM; it is really easy to do, and he damn well knows it. I don’t know how close a look you’ve gotten of him yet, but he looks a LOT younger than he really is. And he’s small; smaller than you. We’re talking ‘smaller than 4 and a half feet’, here.”

“Wow, ok…really? I caught a glimpse of him early through the crowd, but he didn’t look that…”

“He likes to walk on the tables; we’ve given up trying to stop him doing it.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s one of the things that makes him so obnoxious at times…as far as attitude goes, he’s basically a big, human shaped alley cat.”

Hunter tried not wince; the descriptions the waitress was using for this Kaz guy was starting to make of how Smoker talked about her. Shaking her head, she said aloud “Ok, so extremely confident, constantly spoiling for a fight, and pretty much treats everything like he owns it?”

“More or less, yeah. And the thing about it is, he actually came in completely unfamiliar with arcade games of any kind, much less the sort of music that plays on these things. But he picked it up REALLY quickly entirely by virtue of the fact that he has absurdly good reflexes, a good ear for rhythm, and really great timing. He’s been doing nothing but blind runs like this all night, and it hasn’t hurt his score. “

“Dang…”

She nodded. “It’s also not just talent…it’s also a narrative structure thing. I don’t want to go too much into it, but…well, you know how sports movies usually go?”

“Oh yeah….seen it a million times. The one to bet on is always the one you would normally least expect. So here we have someone who is abnormally short who looks and acts younger than he really is to disguise his intelligence, running on a mixture of skill, enthusiasm, and actual beginners luck, and if I’m getting you right, he’s also too stubborn to give up. Sounds like if he was a wrinkly little old man, he’d be the character that turned out to be the disguised kung fu master or something. And he’s totally using the stories in his favor isn’t he?”

“You’re a fast study! So you understand why Tora set up the bet the way he did, and why he picked you?”

“Oh yeah. And I think I know how I’m going to handle this now. But I do want to see him perform at least once.”

“You’re in luck…he’s going on now.”

 

………………………………………………

 

“Hey, Miss…Miss?” Smoker came to with a start, only to find herself staring directly into a pair of warm grey eyes. She yelped and jerked back, and discovered that she was also being partially supported by her red-headed seat mate. Otherwise, she was still in her chair. “Let me go!” she said, pushing him away.

“Apologies…you looked like you were in danger of sliding onto the floor. But you seem to be steady enough now, if that shove was any indication.”

Lance, the bartender, had already stepped back to give her more room, but he was still looking fixed at her face. “Oh, excellent…you’re back with us. The shock finally caught up with you; that’s typical for newbies.” He smiled gently when she glared at him. “If it makes you feel any better, you are still handling it a lot better than many of our first timers.” It was the same soft clear voice he was using earlier, only now it reminded her of the tone that Charger… Wait, I haven’t met anyone named Charger yet…I meet her AFTER the zombie thing…but why do I remember her as a human, too? Aaaggh my head …that reminded her of the tone that SOMEONE had used when trying to calm down either an animal or person who was exceptionally aggressive or scared.

“Did I pass out or something?” she muttered.

“Not entirely…I’d just say that your mind got overwhelmed, and went somewhere else for a minute. You were still able to hold yourself up pretty well; Alison asked your seatmate to support you as a precaution. “

The seatmate in question shot her a look as he lit a fresh hand-roll. Again, she didn’t see exactly what he used to light it. “You scared me. Don’t do it again.”

“Well, excuse me! I’ll try to keep my emotional crisis down to a dull roar next time.” She blinked. “I did not mean to say that out loud. Or that. Feel like I’m losing my mind…”

“Not to put undue pressure on you, Miss, but well…all of these are pretty common symptoms of first timers here. Meaning we’ve ALL gone through something like this to one degree or another. Coming here is a shock, and seeing your own story from the outside is an even bigger shock, especially if your story has a less than completely linear timeline. Again, not trying to pressure you…but a lot of people find that the transition is a lot easier if they talk about it.” Lance’s voice was still very gentle and soothing, and he sounded sincere. This just made her distrust him all the more.

“Talk about it…what? My life’s story? Whatever it is that’s bugging me right now? Cause it’s none of your business, frankly. And I don’t need you acting all concerned over me.”

“Of course you don’t. And you don’t have to tell anyone a thing you don’t want to. No one here is asking that of you.”

“I can take care of my own damn self. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“Yes, you have. You are a very strong person, I can already tell.” Still with the calming-the-unpredictable-person voice…

“And quit acting so goddamn…NICE. No one cares this much about a stranger.”

“You mean you suspect I have an ulterior motive. Which is a fair enough suspicion, and a very natural one. All I can do is give you my best assurances that I am dealing with you honestly. It is entirely up to you as whether to believe me or not. “

“Also, what the heck is up with the way you are talking? Do you ever raise your voice? You’re a bartender, but you talk more like a gorram shrink or something.”

The red-headed seat mate who-most-certainly-did-not-have-a-big-obvious-hand-print-shaped-scar-on-his-face-that-she-was-trying-not-to-stare-at DAMMIT coughed in an unsuccessful bid to hide a laugh. “If that word means what I suspect it means, then I guess she figured you out, Doctor.”

 

……………………………………………..

 

Hunter watched her would-be opponent carefully, barely paying attention to the other dancer or the music. Holly’s report had been accurate. He moved with a confident, graceful air that only comes from years of dedicated practice, which was quite at odds with his appearance. The other dancer, who was only about average height at best, towered over him by over a foot or so; Kaz was TINY. His cat ears, now that she was looking at them properly, were rather outsized, giving him a kittenish air, and his tail looked almost too long for him. But when he moved…

“Wow. He is GOOD.”

“I know. Say what you will about him, he is fun to watch.”

“But…I’m pretty sure I can still beat him. It’s going to be a bit of a luck thing, with a randomly selected song…there is always a chance that it will be one I’m actually familiar with. If not…well, he’s not the only one here that’s can pick out a rhythm and go with it. “

 

……………………………………………..

“Doctor…? Are you kidding? Is he kidding? What kind of a shitty plot device is this?”

The bartender smiled and pulled out his wallet. “My business card? You can look me up if you like. They have a pretty good database going, even on unpublished characters like us. Bartending’s only a hobby for me.”

“So you really are a gorram shrink!” She yelled.

“I prefer the term ‘counselor’, but yes, I do act as a therapist at times in my work. But that is not what I am attempting to do here.”

“Technically speaking, he’s an empathy…specializes in a kind of mental magic. I picked him out in two seconds when I saw him.” Added the red-head. “We have them where I come from, too.”

“What…? Is he telling the truth? Stay out of my head!” she snapped.

The not-really-a-bartender sighed and held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “That’s really not how I work. I don’t read thoughts. I read emotions. All I know about you is that you were in considerable distress over something personal; and that was just what I get from ambient feelings around you. An observant person could have picked up as much just from looking at you, and I swear I will look no deeper unless you ask. As to why I am taking an interest in you; I would do the same for anyone who I found in your state. I swear to you, I have no motives beyond that.”

When she only responded by glaring, he continued. “Also, please note, it was only a suggestion. You don’t have to say anything to me or anyone else. All I said was that talking helps.” He then fell silent, but did not lower his gaze from hers.  
They probably would have kept it up like that…him gazing, her glaring…without blinking for a lot longer had Alison not broken in by slapping a fresh glass of whatever the heck kind of mixture. “Here, drink up…it’s for the physical symptoms only, though. I should have mentioned that earlier. A little intellectual honesty would go a long way towards fixing the rest; just saying.”

“Dear heart…”

“Don’t you ‘dear heart’ me, Lance Katarina…I’m not the one of us required to have a good bedside manner in my work. If she wants me to be nice, then she can stop glaring at my husband like he’s trying to pull a fast one on her.”

Smoker stopped and thought for a moment; not the easiest of feats for her. It had never been particularly easy or natural for her to trust people. And it was all too easy for her to think the worst of everyone, and she so often felt justified for thinking that way. But…well, Alison had been pretty straight with her so far. Lance hadn’t actually lied about his real profession, either. And…well…there was also the niggling thought that she wasn’t actually playing by the normal sets of rules. That maybe…just maybe…now was a chance to try some things she would never have dared tried back in context. It was a weird thought.

As she played with this idea, she pulled out a cigarette and reached for her lighter. Attempted to light it…but the stupid thing would not work. She tried over and over, again, and again, one strike after the other…not even a spark. Glancing around in frustration, she finally turned back to her ok, so I think I’m finally getting used to it scar faced seat mate.

“Hey, do you have a match or something I can use?”

“A what…?”

Not wanting to go through yet another conversation like the one about the bar stool, she all but screamed at him, “Something I can light this with, dangit! I need fire!”

“Aaaahh…well, that I can do.” With that, the red-head kind of…flicked his fingers out in an almost snapping motion and there…well…umm. There was no other way to describe it. Somehow, without a match, or a lighter, or any other visible means of fire production, he somehow had a tiny, perfect flame balanced about half an inch above the tips of his gloved fingers.

That…might explain the burn scar. Maybe. Somehow.

“Well?” said the red-head. “Here is fire. What, never seen a Fire Mage before?”

She blinked. “Well, I guess I have now. Thanks, Sparky.” She lit her cigarette on the proffered flame, ignoring the mage’s disbelieving chuckle. (“Sparky, really? Well, ok, if you insist…”)

Taking a long drag, she leaned back slightly, and slowly released it through her nose. She was smoking a gorram cigarette that had just been lit by magic. The normal rules clearly do not apply here.

With that in mind, she started talking. “Ok…so, here’s a hypothetical scenario. Strictly hypothetical, ok, so don’t go reading stuff into it, you get me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of cameos in this one, folks.
> 
> Again, check out my LJ if you want more exhaustive notes on the subject.


	3. Never before has the word Hypothetical been so transparent or so Flagrantly Abused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunter Dances while Smoker goes into full on confessional mode...sort of.

“Ok, so, hypothetically speaking, you have this…friend, right? And she’s a bit…well, a lot obnoxious, and not always terribly reliable, and sometimes has all the manners and tact of a rabid pack of hyenas. But she’s still a pretty solid friend; always comes through in the ways that count, y’know?”

The three listeners nodded, all three with…well, EXTREMELY knowing smiles on their faces. (Ok, so Sparky’s was a little more of a grimace. Close enough.)

Smoker took a gulp of the whatever mixed drink that Alison had shoved in front of her earlier. “So yeah, this friend. You don’t really know where she lives or what she does for a living when she’s not hanging around you, but she does tend to come to you when things go wrong for her. Which is alright, because in all the time you’ve known her she has always been pretty good about looking after you when YOU really need it. Anyway, something goes wrong. As bad wrong as it can possibly go. There is an…illness going around. One with no known cure…so bad that the government is actually shipping everyone who’s still healthy out in helicopters.”

“Um!…is this an epidemic or a pandemic?”

“What’s the difference?” snapped Smoker.

“Scale, mostly…I’m curious if this is contained to one country or if it’s worldwide.”

“You really need that much detail for a hypothetical scenario, Sparky*?” growled Smoker, frustrated at being interrupted.

“If I want to really understand the scenario, yes. I want to know just how much trouble this person is really in.” replied the fire mage serenely.

“Ok, consarnit…you have no idea if it’s an epidemic or a pandemic because all communication has been effectively shut down, and you have no way of knowing if the disease has spread over there yet or not. Happy?”

“Not really. But keep going…I want to hear more about this panepidemic.”

“Look, all you need to know about it is that the government is telling you not to get too close too the sick people, and to turn them in to them if you find them. It’s really contagious. And you really should just go to safety, but your friend…the one who usually comes to you when stuff goes wrong, has not shown up yet, and you have no way of contacting her to know if she’s ok or not.”

“Hmmm…if it was as bad as all of that, I might have just left her a message telling her to follow you to a certain location, and hope that she finds it.” Said Alison.

“A bit cold, Dearest.” Murmured Lance.

“No, practical.”

“Maybe.” Said Smoker, breaking in. “But say you didn’t do that. Say you waited for her. Say there was something like…a fifty /fifty chance that she shows up sick. Say, if she didn’t show up sick, things turn out…not exactly alright, and may have even made the trip to the helicopter port more dangerous…and then that only turns out to be a temporary rescue…but you at least have one person to watch you back while you travel to different locations. Worth the delay?”

“I’d have to know what the illness is. But you aren’t going to tell us that, I think.” Said Sparky.

“I’d still say you should have left her a message.” Said Alison.

“I’d say that the wait was worth it. I’d feel worse not knowing where my friend was.” Said Lance.

“Ok, so that’s one thing. But say it DIDN’T go that way. Say she did show up sick. Say you…against advice, I might add…say you tried your best to help her because you weren’t quite convinced the government would really do it. Say she ended up making you sick from this terrible, incurable disease. Would you say it was her fault or your fault?”

“Depends on how she got sick…”

“Leaving a message was the right choice, so I kinda lean towards it being a little the waiting persons fault. In that person’s defense, though, I’m not sure I would have made the right choice in that scenario, either. Be right back, guys, customers waiting.”

“I’ll join you in a sec, hon.” Lance said before turning back to Smoker. “There’s a little more left in this scenario, I’m guessing?”

“You just watch where you use those mind powers of yours, kid. But anyway, yes. So, hypothetically speaking…say you knew that all of this was going to happen? That there was a high chance that it would turn out as bad as the worst case scenario? Say you could see it all coming, and you knew that no matter what you know now you couldn’t prevent any of it? That in some weird, inexplicable way, it had already happened? How would you, in that situation, react to that friend?”

Both guys blinked at her.

Sha Dache ended up reacting first. “Does the friend have all this knowledge, too?”

“Yes…actually, let’s say that she found out first, and then lead you to it.”

“Wait, woah, what, really.” Said Alison, bolting back. (She’d been close enough to catch enough of that, and wound up leaving a rather angry bar goer with a half-poured beer.) “Ok, please tell me she said something after that, because that’s kinda shitty.”

“Well…let’s say she didn’t say much. She kinda left you to deal with it.”

“I’d slap her for it. No, wait, actually, if it was me, I’d probably put something nasty in her drink.”

“Hmmm…let me think for a bit.”

“I’d want to know why she did it. Lead you to that kind of knowledge. It may have been an unintended side affect…coming here, for instance, puts you in the position to do a lot of neat things, but you do have to first deal with the discomfort of knowing your full timeline, and having almost total perspective on all of your life’s decisions. And that’s not always pretty from the outside.” Lance winced as he said that.

“Amen to that.” Said pretty much anyone within earshot.

“And then I’d try to find out why she didn’t want to talk about it. Although I’d like to know…how well did these two deal with emotional problems and such in the past? Instances where mistakes were made and apologies were due on one or both sides?”  
“Not always very well…she…well, both of them, really, kinda suck at the whole feelings thing.”

“Hmmm…ok, so I’m feeling a little more charitable to this girl.” Admitted Alison. “This was a pretty big accident to overlook. She might be nervous talking about it, unsure how the other person will react. Maybe she’s trying to let the other person get a chance to sort out their thoughts first.”

“Also, it’s a little hard to blame her for the whole sickness thing…she went to this persons house habitually when things went wrong, and I assume that also meant when she was hurt? She couldn’t have been thinking too clearly at the time.” Added Lance.

“Good point, love. Hypothetically, if this girl HAD known what going being around her friend while sick would do to them, would she have done something different?”

A separate scenario, almost as clear as the infected/survival scenarios, came unbidden into Smoker’s mind, bringing with it a new wave of dizziness. She ground closed her eyes until it passed, and took another drag of her cigarette, another sip of her drink. Hunter, becoming infected while with her and the other two women. Hunter, scared. Hunter, voluntarily letting Charger shoot her to spare the rest of them…

Her throat felt tight as she finally answered. “Yes. She would have.”

There was a thoughtful silence among all of them, which was ultimately broken, by of all people, Sparky. “Ok…so it sounds like we can go back and forth on this for a long time, with the whole ‘who’s to blame’ question, and who would have done what deal. So I think we are missing the real question…what would you…that is, the hypothetical you, do IF you could change things and IF you know for certain that the worst thing would happen?”

Smoker stared at the red haired mage for a moment, trying to decipher what he had just said. “I’m not sure I’m following you…”

“That was a pretty twisty sentence, there.”

The mage sniffed irritably. “I mean, would you still wait if you knew better?”

“Oh, I’m following you now!” said Alison. “Would you still wait and try to help your sick friend, even if you knew it would do no good, and even if you were allowed to use your future knowledge to do something different?”

“But that’s still just spinning my wheels.” Snapped Smoker, who’d caught on even before Alison’s translation, and was feeling a little talked down to. “I…the person in the scenario couldn’t do that even if they wanted to.”

“No, it’s still an important question. Or it would be if that person were here, because it would tell them how to handle their friend. And that would make the difference on how they acted here, you know?” Lance smiled. “And honestly…I think you really do already know the answer. To your real, non-hypothetical question, that is, not the scenario. You probably just need to sort your thoughts out.”

“…and I think I’m almost there.” Said Smoker quietly. She really was. And she was beginning to wonder where Hunter was.

“Glad to hear it! Let us know how things turn out, would you? This has been an interesting exercise.”

“Mmm…” she said waving absentmindedly as the couple behind the bar rushed back to their neglected duties.

She was still lost in thought minutes later when she heard the mage growl loudly, and say “If you so much as touch her or even look at her wrong, I swear to the greater fragments that I will have you gelded in your sleep, team mate or not.”

It took Smoker a couple of horrified and confused moment to realize that he was addressing someone behind her, someone who was protesting in a low drawl that he just wanted to say hello to the pretty lady who’d stolen his chair. She turned to look…

“GEEZUM CROW, YOU ARE HUGE!”

“That I am, beautiful. That I am.” Said the giant, horse eared guy, flicking his tail playfully as he said so. “Wanna know just how big I am?” He added with a wink.

“TORA!” growled the mage.

“Teasing, Sha, teasing. I couldn’t pass up a straight line like that. Oh, don’t get up, pretty lady, I promise I’ll behave myself. “

“Are you being serious? Is he being serious, Sparky?” said Smoker blankly, still half standing up as she said it. She’d never had any illusions about her own appearance, but this guy…this gargantuan of a…person, was tossing around words like ‘pretty’ and ‘beautiful’ so casually that she wondered if he was being sarcastic, or if he was half blind. Frankly, she was trying decide whether or not to be mad.

“Did she just call you Sparky, Sha?” said the horse guy, Tora, with a snorting, horsey laugh. “You must have already wooed her, the, if she’s giving you cutesy nicknames. Jeeze, man, no fair taking all the good ones for yourself!” He slapped his thigh, and laughed even louder.

The mage’s face was bright red with embarrassment or rage, she wasn’t sure which. “Yes, he meant it about what he called you. No, there is nothing wrong with his eyes. Yes, he really does flirt with everyone. And, no, Tora, there is nothing special going on between myself and the lady. It’s just a nickname. Friends give each other nicknames.” He’d said that entire sentence in a rather tight voice, but then, in an undertone, he added to Smoker, “I’m right in saying that last thing, yes?”

“About nicknames?”

“About us being friends.”

“Oh…umm…sure, why not.” Geezum Crow…his face actually lit up when she said that. The odd little scar faced fire mage was actually delighted at the prospect of being friends with Smoker. She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or embarrassed, so she took a long swallow of her drink instead.

Tora choose that exact moment to step up behind both of them and slap them hard on the backs in a way that was probably intended to be friendly. Smoker almost choked on her drink. “Alright then…so you’ve heard my name…Tora Saiyi…and the one you’ve been calling Sparky here is one of my partners, Sha Dache Dasson. But I don’t believe I’ve heard your name yet…?”

Smoker swallowed hard and gasped. “Um…I’m…I’m called Smoker.” She gasped.

“Heh…so we have Sparky and Smokey over here? Excellent! Our meeting was clearly destined to happen.”

“Smokey?” yelped Smoker.

“Oh FRAG...” groaned Sha/Sparky, shooting her apologetic looks from between his fingers. He’d had both of his hands firmly planted on his face for the last few minutes.

But Tora the unstoppable was already off on a different subject. “So, Sha, turn around a minute…I’m pretty certain I’ve found someone who can finally get Kaz to stop playing that damn game for the night.”

“Eh? Really? Where?” said the mage glancing back over towards those dancey dance arcade games that Smoker had been hearing about.

“About to go on. She’s next on the list as soon as this one between Mike and the Blue haired girl is over.”

“Mica? Really?” the mage stood up on one of the chair rungs, and snickered. “Looks like he’s getting beat pretty bad.”

“His fault for letting her choose the song.” Laughed the horse. “So, yeah, my little ringer…absolutely adorable fire cracker of a lady. Dark haired. Wears a kitty hood. I want to say her name was something like Huntsgirl or...umm..something else with an H?”

Smoker snapped to attention. “Hunter?”

“That’s the one!”

“Oh my god, what is she doing?” She said, imitating the mage’s stance by standing up on her stool rungs.

“Your friend, I take it?” laughed Tora, while the mage gave her a significant look.** “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. She’s just playing that game against our other partner, Kat. If she wins, she also wins me a bet, and our stubborn little catboy has also agreed to finally stop challenging people when he loses to someone. “

She gave the horse guy a look. “You made a bet…against one of your own…umm…partners?”

“Heh…wouldn’t have got much if I’d bet for him, would I? The betting pool is for him 3 to 1.”

She stared at him.

“Don’t even bother answering that.” Advised the mage in a long suffering tone. “No point. You can’t shame the shameless.”

“Oh, you say that like it’s a BAD thing.”

 

*Actually, he would have asked the question even if it had been totally irrelevant. The fire mage comes from a culture where they’ve actually invented multiple words for ‘pointless argument’. One of which has its roots in a famous ONGOING debate about an entirely fictional creature; namely, what the damn nonexistent thing looks like.  
In other words, Sparky’s people had perfected the internet flame war before they invented the wheel, and around the same time they discovered fire.  
Yes, these flame wars very frequently involved actual flames.

**Actually, he mouthed the words ‘Hypothetical…FRIEND, huh?’  
Yes, he can totally pronounce ellipses and reverse italics. He’s talented that way.  
………………………….

Hunter cheered as loud as anyone when Disco beat Mike soundly…a loss that Mike took a lot more gracefully than she expected him to. She was almost disappointed.

And then she stepped up on the platform, nerves jangling. She shook hands with her diminutive opponent, trying not to stare at his large cat ears. Lucky jerk…why couldn’t I have been born with ears like that?

Kaz noticed her looking anyway, and flicked his ears playfully, a cat-like smirk on his face. “Jealous?”

“Of you? Pffftt…you wish, kitty cat.”

“This from the woman with the fake cat ears that don’t even move properly…” It took her a moment to decipher what he’d said; he had a really thick accent*, the origins of which she couldn’t even begin to identify.

“But I can take mine off, see? While your pretty much stuck with your lame-o stripe-y ones.”

“Saaaaaa!” He growled. “Bite your tongue! These stripes are a the markings of a great people, and the one of the signs of a great legacy.”

“A great people…are you talking about the hobbits or the munchkins, because goddam you are short.”

“I speak of the Kasskein, you [word Hunter didn’t understand, but was pretty sure it wasn’t polite], and I’ll have you know I am the ideal height. It is hardly my fault if the rest of you are so absurdly tall.” He looked her up and down. “Well…most of you are. “ He snickered nastily.

They might have continued in vein if the signal to get ready hadn’t come right then. The pair of dancers got into position, glaring at each other the whole time.

Within first few strains of the music, it was all Hunter could do not to laugh. Of all the songs they could have picked…of all the songs! Not only could she do the steps for this one in her sleep, but it was one that you had pretty much had to have memorized the steps for to get a perfect score on.**

She almost felt sorry for her opponent. Even fervent supporters of the game complained about this one. No one could figure out who’s bright idea it had been to litter the entire second half of the song with hairpin timing off-beat jumps; anyone who got by relying strictly on the natural beat and rhythm of the song itself always got messed up there.

*Which the author resisted the urge to write out phonetically, because those are almost invariably annoying, and hard to read.

**{Confession time…the author has never played DDR, or Stepmania, or any of these dance games before, and really has no idea what the normal song lists would be without doing research; this is why no song was actually named for this section.   
Nor does she have any clue if a song with steps like the ones she described here actually exist in any of these games…she was thinking of ‘Canned Heat’ from EBA with it’s infamous off-beat taps here, and thought it was too good a device to pass up. She extends her apologies to any DDR purists in the audience who might be offended by her fudging the facts in service of a plot.}  
…………………………………………

Smoker and the two guys watched quietly. It was a truly impressive display. Both moved quickly and gracefully. Smoker could barely take her eyes off of Hunter. This is when I think I love her the most…when I’m watching her do things that things like this. It…well, it transforms her.

…that sounded beyond cheesy, even in my head. I hate myself for even thinking it.

But it’s true. It’s true that’s she’s beautiful when she’s doing something that she’d good at like this. And it’s true that I…she blushed.

“He missed a step.” Hissed Sha. “Just by a bit, but…”

“How can you tell? I don’t think the steps are lined up right on this one…” muttered Tora.

“Not by the beat…by his reaction. His ears went flat for a moment. Oh frigging frag, I wasn’t watching her. How’s she doing, Smokey?”

“Beautifully.” She said in a dazed voice. It was a good thing that she was too busy staring at her friend, otherwise Smoker might have been pretty embarrassed by the looks that Sha and Tora were giving her.

But it was at the point that everyone else watching at this point noticed that the little catboys performance wasn’t going as neatly as it normally did. A small chant was building, urging the little Asian girl onward, building louder until it filled the room…

And then the song ended. And the room erupted, drowning out the catboy’s cry of dismay, and the girl’s triumphant yell. And on the other side of the room, Smoker was on her feet, cheering louder than any of them.

And somehow…because the narrative demanded it, and the crowd sensed it…the two women were moved towards each other, one set of eyes blazing with victory, the other shining with…well. And then they found each other. And before Hunter could even ask any questions of any sort, Smoker had grabbed her and pulled her close. And…

…….

Sha smacked his horse friend with his free hand.*

“Tora, quit staring. You look creepier than normal.” Hissed the mage, his face bright red.

“I’m sorry…they are doing something that incredibly hot, and you want me to not look? No can do, buddy.” He yelped when the mage responded by smacking him across the back of the head with the book he’d been reading earlier. **

Behind the bar, Lance was smiling to himself and politely averting his eyes from the couple. “I’d say she has things under control now, wouldn’t you?”

Alison cleaned a glass, poker faced as ever. “And I’d say I guessed right when I said that ‘friend’ was a euphemism for something. So much for UST in this story, huh?”

“…well they ARE only just kissing.”

“At the moment.”

After what felt like forever…though not nearly long enough for Hunter, the pair finally broke the kiss.

“Not that I’m complaining…but why?” said Hunter a little breathlessly.

“Because. Because even if I could have done it differently, I wouldn’t have. Because given the choice I would still wait for you. Given the choice, I would still risk it. Even if it means you biting me. And I can’t believe I only just realized that.”

“Oh my god, you are such a sap.” Laughed Hunter, blinking tears out of her eyes.

“And you’re an annoying little twerp!” Smoker shot back. Hunter might have had more to say to that, too, but was silenced by another kiss before she could get it out.

And while neither women particularly noticed or cared, the audience cheered again.

 

*The other hand was busy scratching Kaz behind the ears. The catboy was currently draped over the mage’s shoulder, sulking about his loss.

* *And given that it weighed in at close to 20 pounds, and had metal edging on the cover, you better believe that Tora had quite a lump on his head for the next few days. “Totally WORTH it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy...you actually read this far into my silly, OC laden AU crack fic? I admire your patience.
> 
> Well, stick around, an Epilogue is coming up.
> 
> As usual, more extensive notes can be found in my LJ.


	4. Epilogue: HARK! A sequel hook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ladies return to their own storyline, while a handful of OCs talk finances. Maybe the girls will have a reason to go back someday?

The Bar-between-worlds had emptied out considerably after the evening* of excitement. It was the closest it would ever have to a downtime.** The crowd around the DDR had dispersed, and all that remained was the anthropomorphic fox girl and the grey haired lady in the vaguely religious outfit, who were both happily twirling on the dance pad with no regard to the steps at all. A handful of the staff tidied the last things in preparation for the next shift, and the fresh staff of volunteer servers who would relieve them. The couple who had been manning the bar had already vanished, the stoic blonde woman muttering something about continuing a discussion. The skinny brunette empath had a rather telling smile on his face. A small group sat at an out-of-the-way table, dividing up the winnings from a bet.

“Gotta hand it to you, Horse Junk,” Said the surly looking brunette known as Mike, double and triple checking his math against the pile of credits, jotting his calculations down on a small notepad as he went. “You did a good job picking a ringer. That Hunter was something else.”

Tora smiled broadly, brushing his heavy forelock back from his face. “Don’t sound so surprised, man; like I keep telling you, I have a nose for these things.”

“I still can’t believe you assholes bet against me…” muttered Kaz darkly from his position in Sha’s lap.

“Think of it this way, kiskei***…” said the mage, as he occupied himself with rebraiding the diminutive catboy’s long sandy hair, “at least this way, you indirectly get a cut of the profits through Tora. If you had managed to win, you wouldn’t have gotten anything.”

“I’d have my pride still. And I only wouldn’t get any cash because the rules forbid me betting for or against myself.” Growled Kaz, flattening his ears.

“If I’d bet for you, everyone would have thought I was up to something.” Said Tora with an unapologetic shrug. “Quit your moaning; you know I’m going to make it up to you eventually.”

“You damn well better.” Said the cat with an indignant sniff, causing the mage to laugh and tug on the end of his braid playfully.

“Are you sure you didn’t move a comma on these numbers, Mica?” said Holly, leaning over to peer at his notepad. “Those tallies look off; I was under the impression that our takings were going to be bigger.”

She held up her hands defensively when he shot her a look. “Not that I’m complaining! This is still a good share. I’m just curious.”

“For the last time, Holland, I’ve triple and quadrupled checked everything, and have gotten the same results every blessed time. We got all the wagers. It’s all here.” He said this in a exaggeratedly patient tone that still promised pain to the next person who dared question his mathematical abilities.

“But it’s split between you, Tora, and me…why are there four stacks?”

“Cause I promised Hunter a cut if she won, remember?” Chimed in Tora. “And, no, that technically doesn’t count as her betting on herself, Kaz, so don’t even say it.”

“How the frag do you figure that?” muttered Sha.

“Because,” said Mike “we went over the rules list with a fine tooth comb ahead of time. She didn’t set up the initial bet, and she didn’t put any money or favors in, and wasn’t risking losing anything if she lost. Nothing she didn’t already have, at any rate. Us giving her a percentage of the win upon winning, under those conditions, counts as payment for services rendered.”

“Make it sound a little bit more sleazy, why don’t you?” muttered Tora. “I prefer to think of it as a thank-you present.”

“Ok, then, but we still have a problem.” Persisted Holly, who was resisting the urge to grind her fist into Mike’s skull for the rather patronizing tone. “Here is her compensation fee or whatever…where is she?”

Everyone at the table looked up with a start, and started looking around the room, trying in vain to spot the small Asian woman in a green cat hoodie. Mike swore under his breath, and Sha gaped at his larger teammate. “You didn’t…you forgot to ask her to hang around after to get her cut, didn’t you? Holy fragmented…she’s going to think you did that to her on purpose, you…”

“Hey, hey, she was somewhat occupied after, IF YOU WILL RECALL, and someone, not naming any names here, threatened to burn my tail off if I even tried to go near her and Smokey. And how was I supposed to know that they would slip out while we were looking the other way?”

“Ok, ok, calm down, everyone. From what I gathered, this was her second time here, and now she has her girlfriend initiated. There’s pretty much no way she’s not coming back.” Said Holly in a firm voice. “We’ll just keep her share in the safe until the next time we see her, alright?”

“Sides, it’s not like the credit here would have done her much good at all in the context of her own universe.” Muttered Mike, as he did one last calculation before shoving the other two their winnings. “You can’t use it or remember it outside of the hub, and that would be the case even if half if the wagers weren’t made in favor owed.”

“You’re just cranky because those are harder to factor in.” teased Holly.

“Damn straight I am! Effing nonstandard monetary units…”

“So you definitely think that both of them are coming back then?” said Sha, as he scratched Kaz’s ears. Kaz, for his part, snorted at the mage’s rather wistful tone, and buried his face deeper in the crook of his arm.”  
Holly smiled. “Oh, yes. Alison said that Smoker’s face lit up when she mentioned Middle Earth and the theatre scene. She has plenty of reasons to come back, count on it.”

 

*For a given value of the word “evening”. Time does not pass normally in any part of the Metaverse, unless explicitly stated, and rarely has any real impact on the characters; this is why events in fiction can always conveniently take exactly as long or short as the author needs, regardless of how long similar events would take in real life. In other words, Tolkien’s Hobbits can spend a few years getting ready for a journey and several weeks traveling the first leg of it in a just a handful of chapters, while Toriyami’s characters can spend 4 consecutive 20 minute episodes fighting a 5 minute battle, and rag-tag bands of misfits all across the genres can accomplish any task or learn any skill in a timely manner as long as they do it within the frame of a hard-work montage.

**Nothing ever fully closed up in the Metaverse.

***Pronounced kees key; roughly translated from the Kaskein language, it means “beloved, darling pet; precious.” and is an affectionate term normally reserved for a younger relative (most often used by parents for children), or in rarer cases, a very close (almost always younger) friend.

 

……………………………………….

Earlier…so to speak…but not much earlier…

A pair of women, one tall, brunette, and dressed like the early nineties, the other short, dark haired, and dressed like a cosplaying parkour enthusiast, walked through a lively crowd towards an inconspicuous door, each with one arm still firmly wrapped around the other. Somehow, through silent mutual agreement, they had decided to call it a night. Any thought of mentioning this to the people they’d spent time with that night were overwhelmed by the more immediate need to find some privacy. Besides, they were far, far too busy with all consuming thoughts of each other. (Which, in the grand scheme of things, is how it should be.)

Out the door they went. Had either of them glanced behind, they would have noticed that they sign had once again changed:

 

We Still Can’t Be Arsed to Come up with a Real Name for Ourselves  
but who gives a shit about that, we brought you guys closer!

(You two know the way now, so we fully expect you to come back.)

But they did notice, nor did they once look back. They were two busy looking forward.

Several feet from the door, their memories of the Bar-in-Between-Worlds and the Metaverse started to fade, and gradually context took hold again.

Smoker blinked, and look around for a moment, and check her watch in confusion when she noticed one thing….”Huh. We weren’t in…umm…that place for that long. At all. But it felt like we were in…wherever for hours. But only a few minutes has passed out here.”

Hunter normally would have made a snide remark about Smoker’s memory failing with her age, but this time she just nodded. “Yeah, I know, it is kind of weird. I…want to say the same thing happened to me. The first time I went to…y’know. Like, it had only been a few minutes, tops. I checked to be sure, too, because I was a little worried it had been longer than I realized.”

“Did it really happen, then? The…bar? The…everything?”

“Maybe? I dunno. I feel like something happened. And I also get this feeling that I forgot to do something…”

“Hmph. Well…can it wait?”

“…yeah, probably.”

“So, you wanna spend the night?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

And so the tall lady in flannel and the short lady in cat ears wandered off into the night; and while neither could no longer recall the night’s activities beyond a vague impression that SOMETHING GOOD had happened, they never once let go of each other, not even on the drive home.*

And while your humble author would not dare to intrude upon the two ladies’ privacy at this moment by following them further than the door of the apartment, she would like to assure you that the rest of their evening was very satisfactory for everyone involved.

 

*Smoker, due to years of habitual nicotine use, was already quite adept at driving one handed. Hunter rarely bothered to buckle herself in anyway, so it somehow didn’t matter that she was snuggled to close to Smoker to actually fit the restraint around herself. Also, partially straddling the instrument panel dividing the passenger seat from the driver seat turned out to be unexpectedly comfortable. **

**Not that either of them was really thinking that deeply about the situation. All in all, it was probably a good thing that they didn’t pass any cop cars on the way to Smoker’s apartment…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, you actually read all of this? Thanks!
> 
> If you want some REALLY extensive rambling notes on this silly crackfic of a story, see this post on my LJ:
> 
> http://bardicfeline.livejournal.com/12734.html#cutid1
> 
> For those of you who were expecting more zombie in this story...sorry. I'm working on a different AU that is a little more in the actual L4D verse, although I play around with some of the rules and the timeline. I don't plan on posting that until I have a few more chapters of it up, but for those of you who are curious NOW, here be the link:  
> http://bardicfeline.livejournal.com/13814.html

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting this from both my LJ and DA accounts, mostly because my AO3 account feels pretty empty right now.
> 
> If you want further notes, visit either one of those locations.


End file.
